Page 125 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

Nightmares wake me from my sleep. Bright sunlight spills into my eyes, causing me to wince at the sudden contrast. With one arm draped over my face, I reach gingerly for my phone, searching for it on the bedside table.

But all I feel is a warm body.

When I sit up, I’m startled. I’m on the wrong side of the bed. I remember Pavel drank last night, so maybe he—

But it’s not that. It’s not even our bedroom. It’s not even thepenthouse.

And that’s when it all rushes back to me.

The running, the hiding, the arguing, the fucking, the damn rain.

We’re in a safe house, I remember while rubbing my temples.Coney Island.

Pavel stirs next to me. More memories surface from last night, my hips aching with a familiar soreness.

I bite my lower lip.

Last night was almost uncontrollable. I had meant to bring him back to bed. I had meant to take care of him. I had meant to just kiss him. It was all slow and sensual. It was all sweet.

But my desire grew like I was starved for attention. It consumed me until the only thing that would make it stop was to fuck Pavel like it was the end of days. Whether he wanted it or not. And in that moment, I didn’t give a fuck about him. I made it all about me.

My eyebrows twitch together. Worry fuses with the guilt I feel.

He was hurting last night.

Murmurs rise from downstairs. Floorboards wheeze. The brigadiers are awake and shuffling around. Maybe one of them will make coffee.

I sure as hell need it.

I scrub my forehead while trying not to look at Pavel.

I was hurting too.

It’s no excuse. I know that. He subconsciously knows that. But it didn’t stop me.

I took what I wanted.

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. Is that how Pavel felt at Blaczak’s when he did the same to me? Did he feel guilty afterward? Was he also driven by his desires in that moment?

And if that’s the case, then what the hell is happening to us?

I’ll take care of you.

But did I?

My gaze falls on Pavel. Morning light blankets his pale features, illuminating his chiseled cheekbones and sculpted jaw. The way the sunlight kisses his eyes pales out his eyelashes so they look more like star drops than hair. A lock of rich chestnut brown sits like a shadowy streak over his cheek.

It’s instinct to push the strand away. Despite my concern and my guilt, I’m compelled to care for him. Affection grips me as much as desire. How could I ever hurt him? How could I cause him pain? And yet I was capable of it. And it breaks my heart to think that’s exactly what I did last night.

Something is changing between us. Something significant is shifting.

My hand drops to my stomach. Hunger gurgles there, but I ignore it. As my fingers twitch over my navel, I imagine the life growing inside. I think of what my child might look like and how Pavel and I might handle it—together.

Tears sting my eyes. A bubble forms in my throat and clogs my ears, making it impossible to sense anything around me. Other than the bright light shining over me, nothing gets through.

All I hear is the rapid, heavy thump of my heart blocking out my thoughts.

I swallow hard.

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